Jane Miller held tightly to her husband’s arm as the theater descended into darkness, taking most of the audience’s voices along with the lights. Even after 25 years of marriage, that musky aroma with a touch of oaky vanilla from Carl’s worn canvas jacket made her feel at ease. Jane loved their Tuesday date nights at Katsdon's Little Theater, and they would often joke that they had been going there regularly since it had opened in the 30’s. Jane revealed in the well-kept theater, which, although not the same as the ones she went to as a young girl in San Diego, still reminded her of those days past.
Carl pulled his arm from Jane’s grasp to wrap her in his warm embrace, partially out of comfort, and partially at the insistence of the AC unit. Jane craned her neck up to see Carl intently watching a preview for some noisy action film, and the glisten in his eye told her that would be their next date night. She looked back at the screen while an ad for the local shipping company touted its accomplishments to an unaffected audience.
As the title finally began rolling across the screen, she noticed that there were unpleasant words being exchanged in a poor attempt at a whisper. Soon after this realisation, a child-sized figure shot up out of one of the front-row seats, and began yelling at the person next to him about his weight. Jane’s face turned to stone, and her posture became stiff and aggressive as she marched upon the agitators who dared interrupt her peaceful evening. Carl hopelessly called after her as she broke free of his arms, knowing he couldn’t stop her. She closed the three row distance between her and her agitators while a stick-figure of an usher fumbled the theater door open.
By the time the usher had individually apologised to every row between the entrance and the source of the disturbance, Jane was already holding two shadowy figures by their collars as if they were fresh carp she intended to cook for a meal after her movie. Blowing past the usher whose stammering and sweating did little to encourage the trio to return to their seats, Jane carried the squirming and screaming figures out of the theater. The daylight confirmed Jane’s suspicion that the bickering couple were goblins; One wearing a coat too long for him, and the other complaining about not getting to wear it. With some effort, Jane shoved the steaming set into the streets, sternly instructing them not to return.
Mershie smiled at the ticket taker, and then quickly wiped the expression from his face for fear of exposing cracks in his face-paint. Not that it would have mattered; the ticket-taker couldn’t seem gather the energy necessary for meeting any of the movie-gores’ eyes. Teetering past the threshold of the lobby and into the hallway, Mershie gave less-than discreet verbal cues to his legs about the direction of their theater. He added in the occasional insult to ensure his legs’ compliance, each insult eliciting pinching or an attempted slap from his bottom half.
Gip hated being the legs, but Mershie was the smooth talker of the two, and Gip was stronger from working the forge in the mines. Still, he never got to see as much as he wanted to, and Mershie’s instructions weren’t always as clear as he needed them to be. The insults did nothing to improve his clarity, and so he would often take his frustrations out on Mershie’s legs. As the drunk-looking man staggered across every seat in the front row, he finally allowed himself to drop uncomfortably into what he insisted with himself was ‘the best in the house’. His stomach grumbled in disagreement, but it did not appear to do anything about the seating decision.
The theater was swaddled in darkness, but the goblins refused to quiet down and began bickering about the view. Gip complained about not being able to see past Mershie’s belly, Mershie complained about how uncomfortable Gip’s shoulders were, and both complained about the other’s breath. Mershie made a very upsetting comment about Gip’s mother, and Gip made a very upsetting decision to toss Mershie to the ground and begin bombarding him with insults that made most of the surrounding audience glow bright red. Gip was just about to leap from his perch atop the seat to attach a still dazed Mershie when suddenly a stern-looking woman caught him by the collar of his soot-stained tunic. Finding himself deprived of air and not currently burying his knuckles in goblin nether-regions, Gip was enraged. Mershie was peeled from the 50 year old candied oak floorboards and held in a similarly uncomfortable position.
The derelict duo paid little mind to the shadow of a human that the lady almost trampled in her escort out of the building. The elected to instead spend their focus on crafting more and more cutting insults, each using more curse words than the last. By the time they had reached the fresh air of the bay, they had devolved to using only one or two choice words in varying forms and combinations. The lady heaved them into the street like bags of refuse, their heads knocking into each other on the way down. The momentary silence from the stunned goblins was a pleasant reprieve for everyone in the vicinity.
Satisfied with her work, Jane turned, asked the ticket salesman to get a net gun for these pests, and walked to the theater door where she found the sickly usher from before. He puffed his diminutive chest in a show of bravery and proclaimed that she was not permitted to enter the theater after all of the trouble she caused. Jane chuckled, then proceeded through the man and back into her the theater with no mind paid by the ticket taker.
Settling back into her seat, Jane Miller held tightly to her husband’s arm. Carl pulled his arm from Jane’s grasp to wrap her in his warm embrace.
Carl pulled his arm from Jane’s grasp to wrap her in his warm embrace, partially out of comfort, and partially at the insistence of the AC unit. Jane craned her neck up to see Carl intently watching a preview for some noisy action film, and the glisten in his eye told her that would be their next date night. She looked back at the screen while an ad for the local shipping company touted its accomplishments to an unaffected audience.
As the title finally began rolling across the screen, she noticed that there were unpleasant words being exchanged in a poor attempt at a whisper. Soon after this realisation, a child-sized figure shot up out of one of the front-row seats, and began yelling at the person next to him about his weight. Jane’s face turned to stone, and her posture became stiff and aggressive as she marched upon the agitators who dared interrupt her peaceful evening. Carl hopelessly called after her as she broke free of his arms, knowing he couldn’t stop her. She closed the three row distance between her and her agitators while a stick-figure of an usher fumbled the theater door open.
By the time the usher had individually apologised to every row between the entrance and the source of the disturbance, Jane was already holding two shadowy figures by their collars as if they were fresh carp she intended to cook for a meal after her movie. Blowing past the usher whose stammering and sweating did little to encourage the trio to return to their seats, Jane carried the squirming and screaming figures out of the theater. The daylight confirmed Jane’s suspicion that the bickering couple were goblins; One wearing a coat too long for him, and the other complaining about not getting to wear it. With some effort, Jane shoved the steaming set into the streets, sternly instructing them not to return.
Mershie smiled at the ticket taker, and then quickly wiped the expression from his face for fear of exposing cracks in his face-paint. Not that it would have mattered; the ticket-taker couldn’t seem gather the energy necessary for meeting any of the movie-gores’ eyes. Teetering past the threshold of the lobby and into the hallway, Mershie gave less-than discreet verbal cues to his legs about the direction of their theater. He added in the occasional insult to ensure his legs’ compliance, each insult eliciting pinching or an attempted slap from his bottom half.
Gip hated being the legs, but Mershie was the smooth talker of the two, and Gip was stronger from working the forge in the mines. Still, he never got to see as much as he wanted to, and Mershie’s instructions weren’t always as clear as he needed them to be. The insults did nothing to improve his clarity, and so he would often take his frustrations out on Mershie’s legs.
As the drunk-looking man staggered across every seat in the front row, he finally allowed himself to drop uncomfortably into what he insisted with himself was ‘the best in the house’. His stomach grumbled in disagreement, but it did not appear to do anything about the seating decision.
The theater was swaddled in darkness, but the goblins refused to quiet down and began bickering about the view. Gip complained about not being able to see past Mershie’s belly, Mershie complained about how uncomfortable Gip’s shoulders were, and both complained about the other’s breath. Mershie made a very upsetting comment about Gip’s mother, and Gip made a very upsetting decision to toss Mershie to the ground and begin bombarding him with insults that made most of the surrounding audience glow bright red. Gip was just about to leap from his perch atop the seat to attach a still dazed Mershie when suddenly a stern-looking woman caught him by the collar of his soot-stained tunic. Finding himself deprived of air and not currently burying his knuckles in goblin nether-regions, Gip was enraged. Mershie was peeled from the 50 year old candied oak floorboards and held in a similarly uncomfortable position.
The derelict duo paid little mind to the shadow of a human that the lady almost trampled in her escort out of the building. The elected to instead spend their focus on crafting more and more cutting insults, each using more curse words than the last. By the time they had reached the fresh air of the bay, they had devolved to using only one or two choice words in varying forms and combinations. The lady heaved them into the street like bags of refuse, their heads knocking into each other on the way down. The momentary silence from the stunned goblins was a pleasant reprieve for everyone in the vicinity.
Satisfied with her work, Jane turned, asked the ticket salesman to get a net gun for these pests, and walked to the theater door where she found the sickly usher from before. He puffed his diminutive chest in a show of bravery and proclaimed that she was not permitted to enter the theater after all of the trouble she caused. Jane chuckled, then proceeded through the man and back into her the theater with no mind paid by the ticket taker.
Settling back into her seat, Jane Miller held tightly to her husband’s arm. Carl pulled his arm from Jane’s grasp to wrap her in his warm embrace.